Mr X
by Arawna
Summary: Harry receives a text message from a mysterious man. Can the two become friends, or will Harry's grammar get in the way?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Mr. X

Chapter: 1

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron.

A/N: I am well aware of the mistakes in Harry's texting…that's half of the point.

* * *

Harry watched as his friend yelled and cursed at the small contraption in his hands. The redhead pushed buttons, opened and closed the top and finally gave up. With an annoyed growl, he threw the mobile phone at the couch in their shared flat. The phone then bounced off the couch and slid across the floor.

"Oi! Be careful with that! I just got that for you!" Harry rebuked from his position in an armchair. "It won't work if you throw it at everything every time you can't figure out a function."

"But I have no idea how to get it to talk to Hermione!" Ron retorted, throwing himself onto the couch, arms crossed.

"I already told you, you gotta -" Harry started, but the vibrating of his own phone had interrupted him.

"Wha's that?" Ron asked, unfolding his arms.

Harry looked at the screen. 'One received message' was printed above a picture of an envelope. "I think it's a text message."

"A what?" the redhead inquired.

"A text message," Harry explained. "It's like sending an owl through the phone. I'll teach you that one later."

He opened his inbox.

"Who's it from?"

"(372) 2662 5369? I don't know that number."

"But how would they get your number? You haven't been advertising it, have you?"

"No."

Pause. "Well, what's it say?"

Harry opened the text.

_Hello, Harry. _

"What the hell?" Ron breathed.

"I dunno," Harry answered absentmindedly as he typed his reply.

_uh hi. who r u? do i kno u?_

A moment passed in silence as both young men stared at the phone. It vibrated again.

_Pft, your grammar sucks, I hope you know that. Yes, you know me; well, vaguely, but you do. And as to who I am…well, let's just call me Mr. X. Or at least until we get to know each other better, okay? _

"What kind of name is Mr. X?" Ron asked.

"He insulted my misuse of grammar and all you find wrong is that he asks that I don't call him by his real name?" Harry asked, acting wounded.

Ron shrugged. "Just shut up and reply."

_yea ok. but, how did u get this #? only my friends have it_

The response was quick.

_Two words: Amazing. Connections. Oh, another two words: Learn. English. How lazy are you to use the pound sign instead of typing out 'number'?_

Ron laughed at this. "Merlin, I hope this guy knows he's just talking to a brick wall about the grammar."

"Shut up, Ron." The redhead barely missed a fist to his arm that would've likely left a large bruise.

"The truth hurts sometimes, mate," he retorted.

Harry ignored him as he typed his reply. _im not lazy! and wat sort of connections?_

It only took another moment for the clandestine man to send his own text.

_So you can't use 'number' but you can type out 'connections'? And what the hell does 'im' mean? Merlin, talking to you can be worse than listening to the house elves. Anyway, only the most amazing connections could score me the number for Harry Potter. Gods, who did you take me for? A plebeian? _

"'Plebeian'?" Ron asked.

"A word usually used to refer to people far below oneself," the dark-haired boy answered.

Ron threw his hands in the air. "So you can pull the definitions to random words out of your arse, but you can't be bothered to use proper English? What is wrong with you?"

Harry's mouth was open to argue, but his phone vibrated again.

_I'm so sorry, Harry, but I have to go work; can't keep the team waiting. Talk to you later?_

"Team? Does he play Quidditch?" Ron asked over Harry's shoulder.

Harry was interested about what team this to which Mr. X was referring, too. _wat do u mean, 'team'? do u play Quidditch or something?_

_Wow, he can also spell out 'Quidditch', capitalized no less. His talents will never cease to amaze me. How 'bout we talk about that next time, okay?_

The answer as to whether or not he would allow the other man to talk to him again became apparent, so he quickly typed his reply.

_ok latr _

A silence followed the small snap of the phone closing.

"Well," Ron's voice broke through the quiet. "That was interesting."

"You can say that again," Harry conceded, slouching back into his chair with a heavy sigh.

"Well, that-" Ron was quickly shut up with a pillow from Harry's general direction.

_**TBC**_


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Mr. X

Chapter: 2

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron.

A/N: I am well aware of the mistakes in Harry's texting…that's half of the point.

* * *

Harry was lying in his bed later that night, staring at his ceiling, contemplating as to whether or not he should go to sleep in the very near future when a sound resonated from his bedside table. Rolling onto his side, he grabbed his phone before it could vibrate itself right off the edge and onto the floor. He flipped it open to find the now familiar 'new message' image beaming back at him.

_Good evening, you illiterate ignoramus._

He scoffed as he glanced over at the clock on his night table.

_well hello to you too, sunshine. since when is half eleven evening?_

_Oh, picked up a dictionary, have you? Finally found out you're supposed to spell it 'y-o-u'?_

It was true; Harry had decided to at least spell his words right and (unless you asked Ron) only half of it was because Hermione had threatened unmentionably horrid curses if she ever caught him spelling wrong. Though, his friend _had_ failed to mention anything about his grammar - this time.

_your insufferable _

The response was quick, as per usual.

…_My insufferable what? _

_huh, what do you mean _

This response, however, took a little longer to receive.

_You know, if I could slap you up along side the head, I would. I can't believe that the years haven't been kind to your intelligence; you're still as dense as ever._

The words '_still as dense as ever_' stood out to Harry. Did that mean that whoever this was knew him when he was younger? He thought it best to find out.

_did we kno eachother when we were younger?_

The reply wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting.

_'Each other' is two words._

Harry rolled his eyes at the fact that X was trying to circumvent the question with a correction.

_answer the ?x_

_And here I thought we'd gotten past using symbols instead of words…I guess that's what I get for thinking._

Despite that Harry had no clue what the other man looked like, he could very easily picture him dropping his shoulders melodramatically with his head hung slightly and a sigh on his lips. The disbelieving shaking of his head would cause soft hair to dance before closed eyes.

Harry grinned at the sight his mind had made up.

_are you always gonna correct me?_

_No, because then I'd have time for nothing else._

He could practically hear the other's scoff in the words.

_just answer_

_I'll tell you at the end of the week, if you hadn't already figured it out, okay?_

_fine_

There was a moment when no one sent a message and, if they had been face to face, he knew they'd be avidly avoiding each other's eyes, trying to find something to continue the conversation neither wanted to end. Harry's eyes wandered the room, racking his brain for some idea of a halfway decent topic and waiting for the phone to vibrate in his clasped hands.

Finally, his gaze fell upon the large, magicked poster hanging above his desk. Dubbed the 'Best Players of the Decade', a team's worth of professional Quidditch players were poised on their brooms in an almost intimidating 'V' formation, each with their own team robes. On both ends, were the Beaters - Seamus (who turned out to be quite a better Beater than Ron had originally thought) in his bright green Kenmare robes and the other wearing the black and white of the Magpies. Chasers came after them: Angelina from his old Hogwarts team in her Harpies robes and the girl next to her Tornados garb. On the other side, the Wasps' Chaser was next to Oliver, looking comfortable in his Puddlemere United uniform. And in the middle was the Seeker of the Flacons, with his arms crossed, near-trademark smirk in place on his lips, chin raised slightly and an almost challenging glint in his ashen eyes.

Harry sighed. Some things _never _change, but at least the poster reminded him of the question he'd been denied an answer to earlier.

_so what team do you play for?_

Harry didn't even bother to close the phone as he waited for the reply. His wait was short lived, as the phone vibrated in his fingers only a moment later.

_The boys' team; and here I thought that was obvious. _

He let out a soft chuckle at the ridiculously vague answer.

_i kinda figured the harpies wouldn't have you_

As he pressed the send button, his mind wandered to a scenario where the Harpies would make an exception and allow a man onto their team. If such a thing had happened, the story would be all over the press and the _Prophet _would surely make the man out to be some insanely prodigious ponce. Vibrating against his chest pulled Harry from the thought of an absurdly alluring man attempting to push himself through a mob of reporters.

_Oh, we're talking Quidditch?_

Harry stared at the screen for a moment, confused. He was halfway through his response before he realized the innuendo.

_what are you…OH your a perv!_

_How is that perverted? Because men appeal more to me than women (which really isn't hard, seeing as how women revolt me); is it really so disgusting to see two men together?_

Harry just looked at the words on the screen. He'd never actually known anyone who was gay before. Sure, he'd learned that Charlie had a serious boyfriend, but he hadn't found that out until only recently, and he hadn't actually spoken with Charlie for quite sometime. What he was trying to say was that Charlie didn't count since he wasn't really close to him.

_uh…no i've no problem with it i guess_

He could feel his cheeks burning something fierce by the time the next text came in.

_So, which team do YOU play for?_

_uh gotta go to sleep. up early tomorrow and all…talk to you later._

Harry quickly shut off the phone lest he should feel compelled to read the next message that was surely on its way. And he definitely didn't want to reply to anything; he didn't want to be coerced into confessing to some stranger when he hadn't even confessed to himself.

_**TBC**_


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Mr. X

Chapter: 3

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron.

A/N: I am well aware of the mistakes in Harry's texting…that's half of the point.

* * *

"Harry, are you completely sure about this?" Hermione asked dubiously, watching Harry over her mug of tea from her seat at the table in the dining room. Ron was sitting beside her, reading that morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_ and generally ignoring his girlfriend's 'this isn't a good idea' rant.

"Not completely," Harry said over his shoulder as he slid an omelet from the pan he was cooking with and onto an awaiting plate. After adding a few slices of bacon to the plate, he carried it over and set it before Hermione. "But enough."

"Harry, you don't even know this guy," she warned, slapping Ron's hand away from her breakfast as he attempted to nonchalantly steal a piece of bacon.

Harry merely shrugged as he walked across the room again to lay a plate in front of Ron, who promptly picked up a piece of bacon and took bite. "So. I'm getting to know him."

"Oh, really? How much do you know about him?" she asked, as though she was trying to disprove him.

"Er, well," Harry stammered. He began mentally going through the texts in his head. "He's a professional Quidditch player. And he's a stickler for grammar and spelling. And…and some other personal stuff."

"And what does he know about you?" she prompted.

"Uh…that I suck at spelling?" he answered after a moment. The other man had never really asked him about his life, just a greeting followed by pseudo-insults. "That's about it; he doesn't really ask me anything."

Hermione stabbed part of her omelet. "But he knows_ your_ name, Harry. That's already a one up for him."

"Yeah, 'cause people who know me but I don't know them are really rare," Harry bit back. He was getting slightly annoyed, and his tone was showing it. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about that, he said he's gonna tell me by the end of the week."

"Harry, I still don't like this," she told him, finally taking a step back, although she didn't concede entirely. "RONALD! Leave my bacon alone! You have your own!"

"But, 'Mione, I ate all mine," Ron whinged. "Pwetty pwease, 'Mione, just one piece."

Harry rolled his eyes at the exchange between his friends, somewhat thankful for the change of subject.

-------------

The Trio spent hours together that afternoon, just sitting in Harry and Ron's flat, alternating between watching the telly and talking about whatever came to mind. At one point, Harry had the ingenious idea to go find the old photo albums he'd acquired only recently from the Creevey brothers as a End-of-War Anniversary gift. All of the pictures were taken during school or the very beginnings of the War, when everyone was still going about life as though the next day wasn't going to bring about a battle in which dozens (if not hundreds) would die.

Harry plopped himself between his two friends and opened the first book, causing the thin layer of dust that had accumulated to fill the air before them, making Harry sneeze. Wiping his nose on the back of his hand absentmindedly, he flipped to the first page, where the three of them were pictured sitting under a tree, hiding from the warm spring sun. Hermione was doing a bit of 'light reading' and running her fingers through Ron's hair, whose head was situated in her lap. Harry sat beside them, looking down at and joking with Ron over something Harry couldn't remember anymore.

The pictures in each book were never in chronological order, so every once in a while, they would come upon a picture where Ron and Hermione were glaring daggers at each other and in the very next they would be in each other's arms. Some pictures were just two of the three, sometimes missing Harry, and sometimes missing Ron, depending on who Hermione wasn't totally ticked off with on any given day during their fourth year.

A good portion of the second book was meal times and mixed House activities (excluding classes). One of the very first pictures was of the whole of the Quidditch teams during Harry's sixth year, all players in their flying robes, and the Seekers of the two rival Houses acting very much that: rivals. Harry and Malfoy were standing in a very tense way with their arms crossed and attempting to bore holes through the other's skull simply by glaring at him. The others around them just seemed to grin and roll their eyes at the show, with the exceptions of the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs, the former scowling at everyone and the latter trying to get everyone to 'play nice'.

Another picture that stood out was of a warm spring day in their seventh year when most everyone took advantage of the lake. A good portion of the Gryffindors were horsing around and generally being teenagers in the shallows toward the shore. Most of the girls were on their backs on the shore, trying to tan, except for Hermione who was sitting upright with her head bent over a book. The Slytherins were huddled together, trying to egg Malfoy to jump from the very top of a huge rock. After much smirking and predictable boasting, he leapt from the edge in a perfect dive, disappearing under the green-blue of the water before the picture started from the beginning to replay itself.

Harry noticed his eyes lingering on the lean form of the boy diving into the water and quickly broke the contact, hoping he didn't stare long enough to warrant suspicion.

Hermione, however, noticed and hoped to Merlin that she was wrong for a change.

_**TBC**_


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Mr. X

Chapter: 4

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron.

A/N: I am well aware of the mistakes in Harry's texting…that's half of the point.

* * *

Harry didn't go directly to bed when the lights went out that night. Instead, he sat up, debating on whether he should wait for X to make the first contact like the last couple of times, or if he should just say screw it and message the other man first. When the lonely darkness became too much to bare by himself, he resigned to the temptation and flipped his phone open.

_i think i realized something today_

He pressed the send button and set his phone down on the bed before him. He just stared at it, barely making out the light outline of the silver in the dark. He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying very hard to keep his hands to himself, instead of just reaching out and grabbing the phone. No, he'd wait until it vibrated, _then_ he'd pick it up; but not until then.

It felt odd, to be waiting so long for his mystery man to send a reply. His insides were knotting and his muscles buzzed with something between excitement and anxiety.

"Why aren't you responding?" he asked the phone in vain, all the while wringing his hands in his lap. He _needed_ to talk to someone, and Hermione and Ron were out of the question.

After what seemed like an eternity, the phone vibrated. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

_Oh? And what do you think you realized?_

Harry didn't know how to word it; he _knew_ how he felt, but he just couldn't _describe_ it. And if he tried, would X get it? Could Harry really convey the empty feeling he'd felt?

_i think i miss someone from when i was younger_

That was the best he could describe it without being completely and utterly ambiguous. Looking at the pictures, especially the ones of that day at the lake, he felt as though something was missing, and it unnerved him. It unnerved him to the point of not being able to confide in his friends, rather a complete stranger whose name he didn't even know.

_And how did you come to realize this?_

Harry thought to himself. Could he really pull off this kind of explanation without it being too lengthy? Deciding that there was close to no chance of that happening, he replied.

_me and my friends were looking at photos from when we were in school and one person always stood out to me. well, more like one picture - one of him swimming down at the lake. i don't know, but it made me feel empty and…and i just don't know. i have no clue why it just struck me, seeing as how i have a poster of him in my room!_

Harry glanced over at the Quidditch poster hanging over his desk. The same lips smirked down at him and the same eyes challenged him. Why could he look upon that and - up until now - have not felt the same as he had when browsing through the albums?

Seeming to read his mind, X replied with an answer to his unasked question.

_Maybe it was seeing him without the usual clothes - you know, seeing his bare skin - that made you realize that you missed something about this boy. _

Harry sighed. Maybe that was it, but why would he be missing Malfoy now? Why would this feeling suddenly fall upon him?

As he looked by through his own life as a wizard, he noticed that Malfoy was always there, whether as a nemesis in the school yard or a comrade on the battle field. Malfoy was a constant in his life and he seemed to miss the scathing remarks and piercing glares. Of course there was a reason why the poster never invoked such feelings: it wasn't the 'real' Malfoy. The piece of paper never argued with him. It never insulted him. It never got his blood pumping. It never made him feel anything. It just hung on the wall, smirking and challenging, falsely promising a worthy fight that would never come.

In some way that Harry didn't quite understand, he missed the rise he got when he was around the Slytherin.

With another sigh, he quickly made a reply.

_i just don't know_

Harry threw himself back on the pillows, missing the headboard with his head by only centimeters. His head was spinning trying to figure out why he felt empty and why Malfoy seemed the only culpable suspect. He wanted so much to abandon the quest for these answers and go to bed, but he knew that with his head this full, the deep slumber he so very much longed for would never arrive.

His phone vibrated against his chest.

_Well, are you going to tell me who your Lost Lover is?_

He laughed to himself. Half because he could clearly see the reaction the other man would undoubtedly have and half because the 'Lost Lover' part was so far from the actual truth.

_you're gonna laugh and think 'why would the great harry potter seem to feel empty because of him'_

'And Herm and Ron would probably disembowel me, _then _think why the hell I'd miss him', Harry thought to himself.

_There's nothing 'great' about you, so don't flatter yourself Potter. And I won't think that unless he was a Hufflepuff - Er, he's not a Hufflepuff, is he?_

Well, at least he wasn't the only one who didn't think he deserved the fame and superiority bestowed upon him by a raving lunatic.

_lol, no hes not a hufflepuff. hes a…slytherin. _

_A Gryffindor and a Slytherin? My interest has been piqued. Do continue._

Anyone's interest would be piqued by any sort of relationship between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Gossip about the seemingly opposite Houses was always on the lips of students when Harry was still at Hogwarts, especially if it had nothing to do with feuding. Looking back, Harry remembered that it took weeks for the gossip of Ginny and Blaise to calm down, and even then, the mention of anything Slytherin/Gryffindor related always brought thoughts of the couple to everyone's mind.

But between 'The Slytherin' and 'The Gryffindor' of their generation, the_Daily Prophet _would most likely over-exaggerate any sort of relationship, whether it be simple acquaintances, friendship, or even - Harry stopped his train of thought there.

_you might not even know him_

He hoped, in vain, that X wouldn't know the man that had haunted his thoughts since that afternoon.

_Come on, Harry, I know EVERYONE. Well, not everyone, because I don't know any Muggles, but I do know most of the Wizarding World. _

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his tangled hair. Of _course_ this wouldn't be easy.

_fine, but you should know that i hate you. the boy - well, man - i miss is none other than Draco Malfoy. go ahead, laugh if you want; honestly, i would if i were you_

All of a sudden, Harry was hit with an odd sensation. Had he really said that to a complete stranger? When had he become so trusting so easily? Panic set in as he thought about what X could do with type information if he so chose.

He was startled by vibrations against his chest.

_You know, I'd laugh, but, strangely, I can't bring myself to do it. No, I find it oddly endearing that you seem to have fallen for your 'enemy'. Just think about what the public would say if they knew; something about 'Romeo and Juliet' and then they would piss and moan about Fate and 'star-crossed lovers' and all that shite. Oh what a cruel bitch this Fate is that she should never tell them such a touching story. _

He found relief in that he could trust X with this, his newest and most definitely deepest secret. However, the other man's take on Harry's feelings of emptiness disquieted him. Surely he couldn't have fallen for Malfoy - he hadn't seen him for the better part of a year.

The thought of the distance of time and space between himself and Malfoy - just the thought, not even the analysis of that thought - apparently had an effect on the visceral emptiness, which felt as though it dug deeper and deeper into his being.

_i thank you for not laughing, but im not sure if i can agree with your evaluation of my 'feelings' - it just can't be true, if not for my sake, then at least for my friends who wouldn't understand _

Harry thought about merely having feelings for the ex-Slytherin, nothing beyond that, and found that he was curiously comfortable with the idea. Then he thought about his best friends. His illusion of their reactions was that they would scorn and leave him; would they really do that?

_If they are any friends at all, then they'll accept and love you all the same no matter who you choose to shower your affections on. Trust me, I thought that my parents would surely disown me and my friends would never speak with me again when I told them that I was gay - half of them even found out who I hold so dearly in my heart and still stayed with me, despite their thoughts on my 'lack of sense'. Anyway, it's getting late, how 'bout we finish this tomorrow - well, later today - alright?_

_ok, i'll talk to you later. bye_

X's reassurance of his friends helped Harry to drift off to sleep. However, it was the topic of their conversation that filled his dreams that night.

_**TBC**_


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Mr. X

Chapter: 5

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron. Pity really, I could've made it more appealing to the masses – of slash fans.

A/N: I am well aware of the mistakes in Harry's texting…that's half of the point. Oh, and sorry about the lengthy wait for chapter 5…had a rather long essay to write…and that was _before_ my friends kidnapped me and took me to Canada for a Spring Break trip…Anyway, hope you enjoy this one.

* * *

Harry was fidgety all the next day, avoiding eye-contact and constantly moving. Hermione was incessantly watching him as he flitted from one place to the other, never really achieving anything worthwhile. Ron didn't seem to notice his friend's anxious state.

"Harry," Hermione called as she watched him straighten the same portrait for the fifth time. Ron had excused himself to the kitchen to pillage the cupboards. "What's wrong with you? You seem…restless. You know, I've only seen you sit down for a grand total of two minutes. What's on your mind?"

Harry merely stared at her for two seconds before his gaze went searching for something that needed adjustment. He found nothing, since everything had _been _adjusted a multitude of times already. Still feeling a panic he couldn't explain, he lowered himself to the very edge of the sofa, where Hermione was sitting at the other end.

"I – I really don't know," he confessed, dropping his gaze to the nail-bitten hands in his lap. "M-my mind's just racing and I – I just can't explain it right now, Herm."

Hermione watched as he desperately looked around again.

"Harry, stop that," she ordered. "Everything is in order; seeing as how you're the one that put it there." She watched Harry slump in defeat. However, he soon found something to occupy his mind: he began picking the lint from the bottom of his sock. Hermione put a stop to that at once. "Harry James Potter! Stop that this instant, that is filthy! If you want to mope about something, then at least talk to me whilst you mope!"

He looked up at her, the epitome of pathetic. "I don't wanna talk about it, Hermione; I'm still trying to figure it out myself."

Hermione sighed as Harry went back to picking lint. She figured now would be as good a time as any to force him to talk about _anything_ instead of allowing him to use his unconventional tactics to circumvent anything close to a meaningful conversation.

Biting the bullet, she chose to charge forward, hoping that she was wrong, but knowing otherwise. "This is about Malfoy, isn't it?"

Harry's head shot up so quick, Hermione was sure he'd suffer some sort of whiplash. She would've laughed at the 'cornered animal' look if it had been over someone other than the Slytherin. Then, as quickly as the frightened stare had come, Harry was back to his previous state, even if it was a bit more twitchy and drug-addict-like than it was before.

"Wh-where did you g-get a notion l-l-like that?" he stuttered, trying in vain to run a hand through his unruly and apparently tangled locks.

Hermione rubbed her brow in the way she did when confronted with a rather inexorable situation – which was, more often than not, Harry. "Just call it a hunch."

"Who's got a hunch?" Ron asked, choosing that exact moment to walk out of the kitchen and back into the conversation.

"Nothing, Ronald," Hermione said, turning away from Harry while she spoke to her boyfriend. Wanting to talk with the restive man alone, she quickly fabricated a lie to rid herself of Ron for the time being. "Oh, dear, I couldn't help but notice that you two are running a bit low on apples, could you run down to the market to get some?"

"'Mione, there's no apples in the kitchen for a reason," the red head said, plopping himself on the chair. "Neither of us particularly likes them."

"Okay, well, you need…" Hermione's mind raced as she tried to think of something to send him out for. "Oh! Get whipped cream, strawberries, and chocolate sauce."

Confusion passed over Ron's face. "But what do we need-"

"I'll tell you later, love," she coaxed with a wink. Her suggestive grin seemed to get through to Ron, because he was up and out the door in the blink of an eye.

Hermione sighed. _Dammit, and I have to get up early tomorrow. _

Resigning that it was for the 'Greater Good', she turned back toward Harry to continue their 'conversation'. What she was met with, however, was an empty sofa. She was still staring at the still depressed cushion when the bang of a door from down the hall reverberated through the flat.

Cursing to herself, she jumped from her seat and made for Harry's bedroom.

"Harry," she called through the door. "Harry, you know you can talk to me. Come on, Ron's not here."

Nothing but silence answered her.

"If you're gonna mope silently, then I'm coming in," she announced. Before he could protest, Hermione had opened the door and strode halfway across the room, bound for the bed, where Harry was sitting, clutching his phone. Noting the presence of the phone, she asked, "Were you talking to him?"

Harry shook his head. "No, he's got practice right now." He laughed to himself; more of a sudden exhale through his nose than anything else, really. "Funny I should know that, seeing as how I've only known him a few days."

Silence drifted between the two of them for a moment before Hermione spoke. "Do you talk to him about Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged. "Sometimes."

Hermione moved to sit next to Harry on the bed. When he didn't cringe away from her, she put an arm around his shoulders. "You know you can always talk to me and Ron about this." He glanced up at her with a look of skepticism on his face. "Okay, _I'm _here for you to talk to."

"Thanks, but no thanks, Herm." He actually grinned, which kinda shocked Hermione, given the circumstances. "I think I'll stick with talking with X, if you don't mind. He's already seemed to help me realize some – er – feelings."

"Feelings?" she asked.

Harry stared down at the phone. "I'll explain later."

Hermione bit her lip as another silence spread between the two of them. "I don't know, Harry. To be honest, I don't like that you don't know him."

"Only for another two days; he promised," Harry replied. "After that, you won't have to worry about me not knowing him."

Hermione knew she should've put up more of a fight, but she was just too soft where Harry was concerned.

Well, that and she heard the front door shut as Ron returned home.

_**TBC…**_


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Mr. X

Chapter: 6

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron.

A/N: Aw, look Harry's getting better with his texting; I know you're all rapturous and morose at the same time. Well, deal with it.

* * *

_yea, i think she'll accept whatever…feelings i may have for Malfoy. but i know ron's not gonna like it._

Harry's phone closed with a snap. It'd been all of about fifteen minutes since he began his conversation with X, and he was already feeling a little less anxious. He'd started by telling him about the way Hermione worried over him and her obvious attempt at letting Harry sort things out for himself. He also told of his own confession that the other man was right and that there may be something more to the feeling of emptiness than he'd originally thought. Of course, X responded with a narcissistic remark about always being right, despite what his hair color lead others to believe.

The phone vibrated.

_Well, if he doesn't like it, tell him to sit down, shut up, and accept it/tolerate it, or he's no reason to be in your life. I had to do that to one of my friends, because she just couldn't accept that there was no way I was going to follow through with the marriage contract our fathers had made. In fact, I don't think it was that completely…wait, yeah it was. She just wanted to have little Slytherin-bound heirs running around. Anyway, after the little 'chat', she quit with all the comments and let me be. Maybe it'll work for you, too._

Well, that was about the only way to handle Ron when he gets into a mood where he thinks everyone else is wrong. Harry thought back to their fourth year. Yep, definitely the only way to handle him.

_i'll try that, thank you. you know, it's funny, not three days ago, i thought you were some creepy guy with a hero complex, and now we're discussing my love life, or lack thereof. _

Harry laughed slightly to himself. It _was _funny. He'd never get so close with a stranger so quickly, and he's already at a level where he can talk about things he won't even discuss with his friends. Then a thought came to his mind. What if it was _because _he's a stranger that Harry feels so comfortable with the near private conversations? It's not like he could let the other man down – or so it seemed – because he didn't know what X expected of him.

_Aw, would you look at that, you're using big words like 'complex' and 'discussing' and 'thereof'. tear They grow up so fast._

Harry laughed again. The other man seemed to be the melodramatic sort.

_bite me_

_Oh, I would if it weren't for the distance between us._

Of course, he hadn't meant it as any sort of sexual innuendo, but X's answer made him blush a bit.

_if i weren't so infatuated with Malfoy, i think i'd allow it. which sounds odd, given i have no idea who you are._

He had to confess, he had a certain fondness for the wit and jibes of the other man. Idly, Harry wondered if X could match Malfoy in those same aspects.

_Another big word! Rejoice! …okay, so you admit that you are infatuated with Malfoy? Finally._

Harry scoffed at the screen as he punched in his reply. Hadn't he, not twenty, admitted to having some sort of feelings for his childhood nemesis?

_what do you mean 'finally'? i already admitted it._

_But not in such words. Alright, now that it's set, you now need to tell me about this Malfoy character. He seems sketchy, all Slytherin and everything about him. He almost seems too 'bad' for the goody-two-shoes Gryffindor. I need to make sure he's good enough for my Harry._

Again, he scoffed. The audacity of some amused him – slightly.

_since when did i become 'your' Harry? _

_Since I quickly typed in 'my' without really meaning to. Now tell me. (No, I am not whining.)_

He grinned as the other man nearly begged – despite his denial – to hear of 'this Malfoy character.' He thought about it for a moment, but one word mainly came to mind, so that's how he ended up describing Malfoy.

_fine…he's an arse – that's the first word that comes to mind when i think about him, really. but he's also got some redeeming qualities…i don't know any, but i'm sure they're there. he's always been able to get my blood pumping, but it was usually out of anger._

He thought back to the many fights and whatnot they'd had between the two of them back in school. However, during the War, those fights diminished and vanished entirely, only because they were too busy. After everything was said and done, though, they went back to trading the scathing insults. In fact, the statement Malfoy had departed with made his blood boil. Even now.

_That would make for some hot sex._

If the response to his 'bite me' comment was embarrassing, this was all out…well, worse. Harry felt his whole face heat up and could feel it creeping down his neck.

…_erm, WHAT!?_

He hadn't particularly wanted to think about sex with Malfoy – of any sort – despite his confession. He was quite content at the 'I'm finally comfortable with my feelings, now let me bask in them before I move any farther' stage of things for the moment, thank you very much.

_What? Never heard of 'angry sex'? It's really hot…well, not that I myself have experienced it, but my best mate seems to like to describe his private life to great detail, especially when it comes to great sex. Only problem is that it's always with women._

His mind screamed that it wanted to take this slow - and probably never reveal his feelings to Malfoy - but his body had different plans.

_ooookay. i have to go take a shower, now. thanks._

_You're welcome. Talk to you tomorrow._

Closing the phone with a pseudo-sneer, he tossed it on the bed and made his way to the bathroom.

_**TBC…**_


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Mr. X

Chapter: 7

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron.

A/N: Aw, look Harry's getting better with his texting; I know you're all rapturous and morose at the same time. Well, deal with it.

* * *

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione at a small café not a block from the men's flat. Harry wasn't the anxious, twitchy, obsessive-compulsive, nitwit that he was the day before, and Hermione took attention of it; not that Ron would do such a thing as notice. The dark haired man could feel his friend's studious gaze on him as he, in turn, gazed out the window, coffee in one hand and chin in the other.

"You're calmer today, Harry," she said, stating the obvious. Harry turned from the window, where on the other side stood a couple arguing about something stupid, to look at Hermione. "Pray thee, tell why."

He merely grinned at her.

"You talked with him again last night, didn't you? He's the one that calmed you, isn't he?" Hermione asked. He kept the grin on his face as he nodded. "Wow, that suddenly makes me feel unneeded."

Harry chuckled at her and shook his head. "You're not unneeded. I still need you around. After all, without you, who'll be my dictionary and random/useless fact finder?"

Ron, only having heard part of the conversation and none of the prelude from the day before, decided to enter said conversation. "The only other person that could substitute 'Mione in being a dictionary and knower of useless crap would be Malfoy, and Merlin knows you wouldn't go near him with a ten-foot pole."

It suddenly grew silent. Harry turned from his red-headed friend and cleared his throat and Hermione looked as though she were trying to read her fortune in the swirling foam of her mocha.

"What? Why're you guys so quiet all of a sudden?" he asked, his eyes shifting between the two of them.

Hermione was the first to speak. "Well…I don't know everything, only the very rudimentary details. So…Harry needs to tell you." She gave the man in question a very pointed look. "And catch me up on everything, especially why he's so chipper."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Ron. "I'm – I think…I think I may be attracted to Malfoy."

The mug dropped from Ron's hands, spilling the black coffee he'd been drinking all over the table. Hermione made a quick survey of the café to make sure no one was looking their way before she muttered a quick cleaning charm. Her own reaction was merely a raise of her eyebrows, but it passed far quicker than Ron's since she'd been forewarned. She quickly motioned to the barista to get another cup of the house blend.

"Malfoy? As in _Draco_ Malfoy? The same Malfoy that made all of our school years hell? That Malfoy?" Ron asked, his voice rising slightly.

It was Harry's turn to study his coffee. "Yes."

"Does this mean you're some sort of a gay masochist?" Ron asked. "What about Ginny? And Cho? I mean, both were women. Well, I'm not sure about Cho, but I grew up with Ginny, and I know she's female."

"Nice observation, dear," Hermione said sarcastically. "But, I'll let you in on a little secret, both were also kinda boyish. I mean, Cho was kinda masculine with no chest – and she still has none, remember what she looked like at the last Anniversary. And you can't deny that Ginny – well, let's just say that being raised with six brothers didn't help her femininity any."

Ron stared at her blankly before turning to stare at Harry again.

"Why?" he asked, his voice borderline pleading, as the barista set his new coffee before him.

Harry shrugged. "I found I miss him-"

"Then you miss him, that's it," Ron interrupted. "Although I can't fathom why you'd do that."

"Well…I talked with X about all this, and-"

"X? You mean the guy that sent that owl through your phone?" Ron interrupted again.

"Yeah, anyway-"

"I thought you'd stopped talking to him," Ron said.

"Well, he hasn't, and only let me talk to him yesterday," Hermione answered for Harry. "Now if you'd let him finish."

Harry nodded a thanks to his friend. "Anyway, I've been talking to him, and I kinda found that I sorta like the idea of being in a relationship with Malfoy. Not that that'll every happen, I just like the idea."

Ron looked at him like he belonged in the mental ward at St. Mungo's.

"What'd he have to say last night?" Hermione asked, changing the subject, slightly.

Harry took a sip of his coffee. "He said that if Ron wouldn't accept it that I'd have to threaten him with a break of friendship." Ron gaped at him. "Just be happy it didn't have to come to that." He took another sip of his coffee before continuing. "He also said that…uh…given our history, it would prove for some great 'angry sex', as he put it."

Ron, who'd been taking a drink from his own mug, suddenly coughed and the contents of the cup quickly went the way of the previous cup. Unfortunately, it wasn't the table that had the misfortune of acquainting itself with the hot coffee; it was Ron's face.

"Ah, it burns," Ron whined as Hermione grabbed a handful of napkins to mop the liquid from her boyfriend's face.

"Ronald, hush, and let me clean it off," she chided harshly. One doesn't have to be a genius to know Ron quickly shut up, turning his loud whining to a quiet whimper.

Harry watched as she gently rubbed Ron's face, telling him in a harsh tone to stop moving, but having a caring glint in her eye and an amused smile on her face.

He wondered, idly, whether or not he'd be able to achieve a relationship like that with Malfoy. He shook his head of the thought as the couple across from him turned to him once again.

"Please don't say anything like that again," Ron pleaded. One side of his face was red where the coffee had done the most damage, but Hermione was casting a healing charm, so Harry didn't need to worry.

"It's okay, Ron, he probably wouldn't like the idea of any sort of relationship with me, anyway," Harry answered, looking back into his mug. "He'd probably hex me if I asked him whenever I saw him next, which would be the next Anniversary."

Hermione placed her hand on his. "Then the stupid git wouldn't know what he'd lost before he even had it. If it be so, then I'd be here for you to cry on-" Harry glared at her, as if to say that he didn't cry. "-or talk to if you needed it."

"Pft, there's no way he'd deny Harry," Ron scoffed. The two looked at him, as if asking what the hell happened and if the coffee was the catalyst. "What? If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?"

_**TBC…**_


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Mr. X

Chapter: 8

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron.

A/N: Aw, look Harry's getting better with his texting; I know you're all rapturous and morose at the same time. Well, deal with it.

* * *

Harry clung tight to his phone, again at odds about whether or not to make contact first again. He wanted to talk to X, but he thought maybe he'd be too selfish to open with a question as to his true identity. So now, he was faced with another problem: what conversation did he want to start?

Lucky for him, however, his phone vibrated in the middle of his contemplations.

_So, how was your shower?_

Harry felt himself redden slightly as he typed his reply.

_what's it to you? it may have been an excellent shower, but im not telling you_

Harry waited the moments it took X to reply. Over the days, he'd come to expect verbose answers that took a little longer to get to him, so he wasn't surprised that it took longer than it would've taken himself to reply.

_Ah, my dear Harry, you have no gift for subtly. If you had a great shower and deny it, then I know it was great. I know you, Harry, maybe better than yourself. I guess that's what I get for watching/stalking you for so many years. And before you ask, no, I am not some psychotic fan boy; I just have a talent for observation…I'm glad you had a good shower._

Harry chuckled to himself; X really did have a talent for observation.

_i've no clue what your talking about_

_First step is admitting you have a problem._

This time, he scoffed at the screen. What problem? Just because he refused to admit he had a 'great shower' didn't mean he has a problem, right?

_yeah, sure._

As Harry waited for the response, he realized that he really did like talking to the other man and wanted to finally talk with him tête-à-tête. Before X could respond, he quickly typed another message and sent it.

_so, who are you? you promised that you'd tell me this weekend, and it's friday, so that constitutes the weekend._

The reply to the flow of their conversation arrived first.

_Ha! You're finally using grammar and correct punctuation. Next step: spelling._

His second message arrived moments later.

_Are you adverse to a 'date' of sorts? _

Harry bit his lip and weighed the pros and cons. On one hand, he'd finally realized he was attracted to Malfoy – well, Draco to be more specific. However, Draco would probably hex him unrecognizable if he'd ever brought up the subject. On the other hand, he had a seemingly interested man on the other end of the messages that he wasn't repulsed by. X made him laugh, made him think; hell, he insulted him and kept him on his toes – so to speak. He felt that he'd be betraying Draco (Gryffindor Loyalty comes out of nowhere, pushing toward the finish line) but realized that Draco would never give a fuck what he did (and Slytherin I-Don't-Give-A-Flying-Fuck takes the lead and – it's going, it's going – and it takes gold!).

_sure. when and where?_

--

Harry stood outside a small Italian restaurant the next evening, waiting for six o'clock to hurry up and arrive so that he could finally meet X face to face.

He'd told Hermione that he was coming out tonight, and he told her why. She seemed okay with it, but she had that 'I'm not so sure' look in her eyes. Ron kinda looked at him as if he were crazy but went along with it anyway.

Harry glanced at the clock on his phone one more time. 5:43. X said the reservations were for six, but he still felt as if he were either too early or too late, he wasn't quite sure which. Anxiously, he tugged at the collar of his button up dress shirt, wishing the other man hadn't chosen a restaurant that had a dress code. Hermione had insisted that he wear a tie, but Ron agreed with him, saying that it would seem too formal. Watching the older men exit and enter with their younger lady friends on their arms, he began wishing he had taken 'Mione's advice, since all the other men wore one patterned tie or another.

He checked the clock again. 5:47.

_Damn, time passes slowly when you're waiting_, he thought to himself.

Sighing, he leaned against the wall just outside the door. What a sight he would've made: the Man Who Lived wearing dress clothes and leaning against a stone wall. Not quite something one would see everyday. Impatient, he glanced down one direction of the street, then up the other.

_When is he going to get here?_ He wanted to know. He glanced again at his phone; ten more minutes. Needing to be moving, he pushed himself off the wall and began to pace in front of the restaurant. _Come on, X. Where are you?_

Almost as if answering his unspoken question, his phone vibrated. Hoping it wasn't the other man texting to cancel, Harry flipped it open. He had expected it to say 'one received message', as it always had, but instead, he found the image of a phone ringing and the name 'Mr. X' below it. Hesitantly, he pushed a button to answer the call and held it to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked, cautiously.

"Hello, Potter," a voice he hadn't heard in almost a year drawled both in his ear and from behind him. "Now, tell me why you couldn't at least _try _to calm that nest you call hair."

_**TBC…**_

--

A/N: I'm a bitch, aren't I? And, yes, I _do _take a perverse pleasure in this. Muhahahaha!!


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Mr

Title: Mr. X

Chapter: 9

Author: Arawna

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Harry Potter and Co. does not belong to me, rather to JKR and anyone else who has stuck their hand into this cauldron.

* * *

"_Hello?"_

"_Hello, Potter. Now, tell me why you couldn't at least _try_ to calm that nest you call hair."_

Harry froze upon hearing the voice. There's no way in heaven, earth, or hell that the person behind the voice could really be there, just out of sight and reach.

"Well," the voice drawled in his ear, "aren't you going to turn around, or do I have to come to you?"

Harry really didn't know what to do; this couldn't really be happening. _That's it_!! He hasn't woken up yet! Sure! It's still Friday night/Saturday morning! This was all just a dream, a horribly vivid dream…

"Fine, be that way," was all that was said before the line clicked off. The next thing Harry knew, someone had grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. His phone was still clutched at his ear and he just _knew _he had that 'deer in the headlight look' – not that the other man would get the reference. Speaking of whom, the blonde smirked, taking the phone from Harry's hand and closing it before pushing it into the front pocket of Harry's trousers. "You know, this is usually considered the polite moment to offer greetings or the like." Harry remained quiet and staring, still not believing that he wasn't dreaming. "Need me to pinch you?"

This seemed to shake Harry from his daze. There was no _fucking _way that Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, making flirtatious banter with an enchanting smile.

Harry opened his mouth to speak. "Unhhh…"

"How eloquent of you, Potter," Draco smirked and raised his wrist as if to look at the watched adoring it, but never paid the face any attention. "Now, lest my math is wrong, we only have a few minutes before our reservation." Harry didn't move, merely kept staring on in amazement. Shaking his head, Draco muttered, "Guess I _am _going to have to pinch you."

Inconspicuously, he reached out and pinched Harry sharply on his ass. As a result, he shrieked and jumped, only proving that it wasn't a dream.

Draco smirked as the now attentive man. "You're a screamer? My, this may prove to be fun."

--

Their dinner had come and gone and they were at the stage of the evening where they were merely sitting at their table, drinking the vintage wine Draco had picked out and chatting about nothing and everything. Surprisingly, they hadn't talked about phones or random letters of the alphabet. Instead, they filled their time with the small facts and even smaller events that filled their lives between the yearly Anniversaries. At present, Draco was telling a story of his goddaughter, and laughing about the whole thing.

"Oh, Harry, you should've seen her. She took all the ribbon from all the packages and tried to wrap herself in it. Oh, it was the cutest thing I've ever seen!" A fond smile adorned his lips and Harry couldn't help but notice that it looked good on him. He also couldn't help but notice that a few bottles of wine will put Draco into an excessively amicable mood. Harry watched him take another sip of wine.

"You're really different from school; from the war," Harry observed aloud.

Draco stopped mid-sip and lowered the glass from his lips. He was silent for a moment; to Harry, this was him trying to find the right words.

"Growing up in Death Eater Central – and being a Slytherin nonetheless – forces you to don a mask or two. Or sometimes four are needed to get through the day, but everyone's different," Draco explained. Harry also noticed that the blonde talks with his hands, _especially _when he's had a bit too much to drink. He took a sip of wine before continuing. "Even you probably have at least one mask that you wear."

Harry stared into his glass. He'd been doing an awful lot of that lately and it was bugging him.

"I don't know," he replied. "I mean, I'm sure I've got one that I don't even notice, but I don't know."

Draco took another sip of wine. Idly, Harry wondered if the other man's lips would be stained with the red wine by the end of the night.

"See, I already know you wear – or wore, whichever it is – a mask around your friends." He shrugged. "You even admitted that it felt weird to be telling a stranger what you didn't tell your friends. You were hiding your feelings of me from them so you would've had to act different around them, especially when my name was mentioned."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, resigned. Trying to avoid looking at Draco, he dipped the tip of his forefinger into the wine before him and ran it over the lip, creating a high, musical ringing. He could only take so much before it utterly annoyed him, so he quickly ceased his ministrations and bit the bullet. "So why did you never tell me it was you?"

A wine glass paused halfway to a gaping mouth. "Harry! We've been talking for a little less than a week! I've been dropping hints like the Weasel dropped the Quaffle! You can't be serious!"

Harry merely shrugged with one shoulder and finished his glass of wine. It had grown silent and awkward between the two of them. As he reached for the wine bottle, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Hearing the low hum, Draco scoffed.

"You go on a date, and you leave your phone on?" he asked, almost chidingly.

With a mock-sneer, Harry pulled the phone from his pocket and flipped it open. 'Mr. X' shone up at him, just under the usual message. Shaking his head, he opened it.

_So, do you want come over to my place?_

Harry grinned and made a quick reply.

"It was just a friend wondering if I had plans tonight," he replied, taking the bottle of wine from its ice bucket and pouring himself a glass. A moment later, he heard a low hum from the other side of the table. Harry looked over at the other man as he answered it, cocking an eyebrow in question. "What were you saying about phones on dates?"

Draco raised his hands in surrender, one hand with its nimble fingers wrapped around the small silver phone. "I have to have it; the life of a professional Quidditch player isn't all fun and games and they may need to contact me at any hour."

_you know, you're really kinda perverted, X._

Harry waited for Draco to type out his reply before he asked, "So, did they need you?"

"No," the blonde answered, taking another sip of wine. "The manager just wanted to remind me that the next practice isn't until Monday, so I have the whole weekend off."

Harry's phone vibrated again.

"And here I thought you were on the date with _me_," Draco whined, a pseudo-pout on his lips.

Harry chuckled. "That's what you get for thinking."

_Hey, I merely asked if you wanted to come over, I didn't say anything about – hey, now that you mention it, it does sound like a good idea._

"Who's that and what do they want?" Draco asked, taking a drink from his glass.

"Jealous?" Harry asked, liking the way the other man's eyes narrowed even at the jest. "Oh, it's nothing to worry about; just my lover – my _female_ lover."

"Pft, yeah, like I'm going to believe that one," Draco smirked. His own phone vibrated against the table.

_gods, can you think of nothing else?_

"The manager this time, too?" Harry asked, sipping at his wine.

"Who's jealous now?" Draco said smugly. "Anyway, it's nothing for you to worry about; just the Keeper of the Falcons. He seems to have shown interest."

Draco loved the way Harry's left eye twitched. It didn't twitch too much, because soon after, his phone vibrated.

_Yes, as a matter of fact, I do; at the moment, I'm thinking about you…So, are you coming? _

Draco waited for Harry to finish his reply.

"So how's that female lover treating you?" Draco asked with a smirk set upon his face again.

"Oh, fair enough," Harry answered. "She says she can't seem to get me off her mind."

"Oh, I'll believe that one when I see it," Draco said. Then, he smiled. Actually smiled and Harry felt himself smile, too. The other man's smile disappeared, however, when his phone vibrated.

_yeah._

"Ah, he wants to come over tonight," Draco said in a mock coo. He then donned a smirk and the coo disappeared. "Too bad I'll have to tell him to piss off, I've already got company."

Harry laughed at the way Draco changed from one tone to the other. He was enjoying himself and it actually surprised him.

His phone vibrated.

_So soon, Harry? We haven't even left the restaurant. And you call ME the perverted one._

He really wanted to throw something at the smug, smirking man as they both got to their feet, but the only things on hand were his phone and a bunch of glass, neither of which seemed practical for the punishment to be dealt. Suddenly, he grinned to himself. He knew _the_ perfect punishment. As he followed the other man out of the restaurant and onto the street, he told himself to transfigure something into a silken rope when he got to Draco's flat.

_**FINS**_

--

A/N: For those of you who hadn't noticed (which is probably most to all of you), if you were to look back at the telephone number in chapter one and then look at a phone keypad, those numbers correspond with the letters in Draco's name. DRACO MALFOY (DRA) COMA LFOY (372) 2662 5369. It was just a coinkydink that Draco's name had the same number of letters as a British phone number does numbers. Harry's name also has the same number of letters, but his actual phone number never came up in conversation or whatnot or I would've used this method on him, too.

'Til next time, adieu.


End file.
